Gone Girl (2014) dir. David Fincher

For this post I'm going to review something recent, mainly because I have a lot of thoughts and feelings about David Fincher's new thriller, but partly because I'm having trouble picking up a copy of Snow White and the Seven Dwarves.

There's already a lot of stuff to read about concerning David Fincher's style, which is very restrained, precise, and calculated. So I won't go on at length about it. To get a good grasp of it if you're unfamiliar, or if you just want to refine your thoughts of it, film theorist Tony Zhou did a great overview of it in his latest Every Frame a Painting installment.

Like Fincher's previous thrillers, Gone Girl is tight, deliberate, and methodical. I definitely like his previous work more, particularly Seven (1995) and Zodiac (2007). But what's interesting about Gone Girl is that Fincher is sticking to his trademark style while building new cinematic elements into it. I haven't seen his most recent films Girl With the Dragon Tattoo (2011) and The Social Network (2010), so maybe these new developments aren't all that recent.

For those unfamiliar, Gone Girl is about a writer from New York, Nick Dunne (Ben Affleck), who, after moving back to his hometown in Missouri, discovers his wife, Amy (Rosamund Pike, who rocks it in Pride and Prejudice) is missing. He calmly starts an investigation and unintentionally creates media frenzy and very public suspicion when he acts a little to calm and collected, even content, about the disappearance. Divulging anything else about the plot would effectively spoil everything for you.

The editing in particular is something I haven't seen before from Fincher. Even non-avid movie goers are sure to notice the abundance of fadeouts in this film. At first they are used as a device for flashbacks, which is pretty commonplace. But as the movie goes on, they gradually start working their way into the current-day timeline, and even happen in real time, fading in and out in one scene by itself.

It's hard to describe the effect they have without spoiling the film (and stating anything besides the premise would pretty much be a spoiler), but they are very effective and jarring. Shots are unusually short as well, and this is something that my one of my favorite professors and go-to film critics, Pete Timmerman, talks about in his review, aptly stating that they create a sense of lost time. Moreover, they build in a sense of rapid escalation, which is an element portrayed through the efficiency of the police procedurals and the impulsivity of the media and the public. A lot of the cinematic techniques being used here compliment the idea of constantly trying to beat the clock. Again, this style of editing might have been utilized by Fincher before. I know that Girl With the Dragon Tattoo took home the Oscar for Best Editing.

The story overall was pretty engaging. I want to say that I really, really liked this movie. Maybe even loved it. It blew my mind. But then again, I saw it in the theater without knowing what to expect. Those feelings tend to fade as days pass. I mentioned a couple of Fincher films that I like more, and what I think that those films have over this one is that their stories seem more cinematic. All but two of Fincher's films are book adaptations. Typically, he is able to transform the literary material into screen material. But this time, there are major parts of the story and script that seem overly novel-esque. They seem out of place in a film.

For instance, Amy, the titular "gone" girl, is the daughter of two childrens' book writers who are widely known for their "Amazing Amy" series, loosely (and irresponsibly) based on the actual life of Amy. It's introduced early on to give backstory and to characterize Amy and her parents, and it works to some degree at achieving character depth. But it seems a little too far fetched. I find that hard-to-believe things have more of a place in books, because authors are meant to weave a tale with their words and make literary allusions. Of course, films need not and sometimes should not be devoted to reconstructing reality (however skewed it is meant to turn out), but in a realistic, darkly satirical thriller from the likes of David Fincher, this kind of thing seems a bit too whimsical.

Other elements, such as the occasionally witty dialogue and quirky characters, seem like too much. Nick Dunne (Ben Affleck) acquires an occasionally sassy but brilliant and collected Lawyer (Tyler Perry) named Tanner Bolt (which sounds like a name from a comic book). He also has an equally quick witted and supportive twin sister (Carrie Coon) who he owns a bar with. Things like this seem overly constructed at first, but I have to say that I am totally willing to overlook them because of the astounding performances of Tyler Perry and Carrie Coon in their respective roles.

Gone Girl is equal parts fascinating, frustrating, haunting, and shocking. I loved it and would recommend it. Even the previously mentioned flaws almost seem like attributes, considering how much mystique this film carries. David Fincher's esteem, his reliably engaging and suspenseful style, and his often great dialogue are making me re-think them, although they appear on the surface to be minor slip ups. Gone Girl is a film that makes you feel bad for the main characters while simultaneously despising them. And then as you think about the film days later (and trust me, you will), your attitudes start to change. At one moment you'll be on one character's side, the next you're against them. The film doesn't guide you into a comfortable stance, it challenges you, and not just while you're watching it.